Hell to Pay
by Iffy Jr
Summary: Harry/Draco. "A magical world set in the 1700s, Harry Potter stumbles upon Draco Malfoy thanks to his simply being hungry. He's never really liked the blonde, but what will happen when the Slytherin is a lot closer to a Hufflepuff than Harry ever realized?" COMPLETE.
1. Part I

**Notes**: This fic was inspired by a fanart from a lovely picture I came across on Deviantart by _haiiro-no-tenshi_, called _The Secret Garden_. So this fic is based in more of the 1700s era :) Also, the poem at the beginning of each part has both an unknown title and author to me. I've tried looking it up before but it never gets me anymore, so if you know anything that'd be swell. Enjoy :)

**Disclaimer**: You know the drill!

**Summary**: Harry/Draco 1700's AU. "Thanks to being beyond hungry, Harry Potter stumbles upon Draco Malfoy in the kitchen. He's never really liked the blond, but what will happen when the Slytherin is a lot closer to a Hufflepuff than Harry ever realized? There'll be hell to pay, that's what." COMPLETE.

**Pairing**: (Main) Harry/Draco; (Other) mostly all the canon ones, Albus/Grindelwald, Thomas/Bellatrix, Blaise/Pansy, Seamus/Lavendar  
><strong>Status<strong>: Complete  
><strong>Rating<strong>: Mature  
><strong>Warning<strong>: mild language; AU - Everyone's Alive, AU - 1700; romance/adventure; m/m and m/f pairings; sexual content; top!Harry, bottom!Draco

* * *

><p><strong>Part One<strong>

"_They all reeked of the same perfume,  
>Bled the same color,<br>Were called by the same name,  
>They're more than a species, I'm sure<em>

_And for evil that is perfect,  
>For torture that is white<br>For pain that is innocent,  
>There is no certain cure…"<em>

Once upon a time there lived a world. This world is very different from any worlds that we've come to love, because the people of this world have yet to die. In fact, they may not die at all. Of course, they'll all die, but maybe in a different way that we're all used to. Maybe in a nice way, in sleep, being sung to by Death instead of being run through with his blade.

This is an old world, where there are castles and manors, and certain canons are just being introduced to muggle wars. And inside of the castles and manors and villages and all of those other things, there are women with large dresses and silken gloves that go up to their elbows, and the men wear tights and gloves and top hats and have pointless flaps on the back of their tailored jackets. And instead of cars to ride in there are horse drawn carriages, and instead of being put into any sort of jail you're simply burned at the stake. And men wear perfume and women can't be actors and there are parties at manors that are too luxurious for words.

But the most important part of this world is the men and women who are in it. There are wizards and muggles and vampires and werewolves. There are goblins and trolls and unicorns and giants. There are so many things more than that, even, that you'd think it would be impossible to keep any sort of calm at any sort of time. But the world has managed. Wizards and muggles live in harmony, but they are still apart because everybody knows that wizards are so much better than the non-magic folk. But muggles are allowed to work in the manors of the wizards, because who else would cook their food and do the laundry and wash the floors? The house elves can do it too, but wizards have found that muggles are so much better at things, even though the house elves can levitate and apparate from room to room. There are no muggles that are bound to wizards as slaves unless their needs to be, but that need hardly ever needs to be met.

There are all sorts of wizarding families that are at the height of this time. The Malfoy's being one of them, naturally: Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco are one of the most highly held wizarding families in all the town of London—to us, Old London. Then there are the Weasley's: Arthur, Molly, William, Charlie, Fleur, Percius, Fredrick, George, Ronald, and Ginevra are another pureblood family, very highly esteemed in the Ministry. Not as high as the Malfoy's, but very close. And third, there are the Potter's: James, Lily, and Harry are the most liked out of the three families, though they are still the third in importance to the wizarding world. Then there are the three members of the Longbottom family (Neville and his parents), the three Parkinson's (Pansy and her parents), the three Goyle's (Gregory and his parents), the three Crabbe's (Vincent and his parents), the two Lovegood's (Luna and her father, Xenophilius), the three Tonks' (Nymphadora, Ted, and Andromeda), and many more.

There are others, of course; the somewhat individuals. The long-together-but-not married couple of Albus Dumbledore and Grindelwald. The half-blood Thomas Riddle is marrying the pureblood widow Bellatrix Black. Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew are all the closest friends to James Potter. Regulus Black is very close to Thomas and his fiancé. Severus Snape is very close to Albus and Grindelwald. Muggleborn Hermione Granger, who is very good friends with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley thanks to their seven wonderful years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Albus is the best Headmaster Hogwarts has and will ever know. Severus and Remus work together in harmony to teach Defense against the Dark Arts, Bellatrix for astronomy, Thomas for herbology, Narcissa for ancient runes, Lily for Care of Magical Creatures, and of course all of the others. Lucius runs the Department of Mysterious alongside James. They don't get along as well as they should, but they manage enough to go out to lunch with each other on occasion. Percius Weasley is the most wonderful Minister of Magic, William and Fleur run the Gringotts bank at the best it's ever run, Charlie Weasley hosts the most amazing Triwizard Tournaments every four years at the Hogwarts schools, and Fredrick and George run their joke and goody shops all over the world.

It's the month of July for all of our friends. Harry's birthday is today, and the Potter's have invited all that they know to come celebrate with them at their manor. Harry's not a fan of big parties, but he'll put up with it. He's just glad that he's not famous, or he would have to deal with things like this every day!

**OoOoOoO**

Harry smiles languidly down at everyone from the front balcony. He's dressed in his best pants, brown and tight to his skin. His brown boots are short, up to his ankles. His darker brown vest over his white button-up turtleneck shirt, clipped together at the top with an emerald gem that matches his eyes. The sleeves of the white shirt are rolled up to his elbows. Harry has never been able to stand any sort of fabric on his forearms. He's wearing gloves short enough that they show all of his wrists, and the same color as his vest. It's not his _best_ outfit, but its okay because it's his birthday. He's sure nobody will comment on it.

The entire front yard is superfluously lavished in decorations and filled with wizards and the muggle families of Dean Thomas and Hermione Granger and some of his other friends. The inside of the manor is just as opulent and just as filled. People are bustling about summoning food off of plates and showing off their new dresses and looking for the birthday boy to wish him another splendid year.

Harry's up here to avoid all of them, of course. You have to go through his bedroom to get to this balcony, because the wards don't allow you to apparate anywhere while being on the property. So Harry has been hiding up in his room, waiting for Ronald to owl him that he's arrived so that Harry can go downstairs without being smothered.

But he is rather hungry…

He gives an sigh, leaning more against the rails of the balcony. He can make out most of the Weasley family by the lake, so he's confused as to why Ronald has yet to owl him. Maybe he's looking for Hermione. Or, more appropriately, _with_ Hermione, since they finally got together at the end of their seventh year. But Ronald wouldn't do that to Harry, and Hermione wouldn't let him anyway. It's Harry's birthday, after all.

He sees the Longbottom's having a lovely conversation with Xenophilius Lovegood, and Neville and Luna are skipping stones at the lake with Hagrid. Dumble—well, Harry can call him Albus now. Albus and Grindelwald are holding hands as they have a conversation with Thomas Riddle and his fiancé, Bellatrix Black, on the main promenade of the yard. Snape is standing around in a circle of Remus, Peter, Sirius, and Tonks. Harry doesn't know how anyone can stand that particular Defense against the Dark Arts professor. They hate each other thanks to the marriage of Harry's parents.

And then there are Harry's parents, having what seems to be a lovely conversation with two of the Malfoy's. Harry doesn't know where Draco could be, but he doesn't much care. He's never spoken to the boy before because Harry was always with Ronald, and the Malfoy's refuse to associate themselves with the Weasley's because of a longtime-running family feud that Harry can't manage to follow. Either way, Harry doesn't like the youngest Malfoy very much because of the way he holds himself and the way that he treats the others around him.

Harry groans, pushing himself away from the balcony and stalking back into his bedroom. If Ronald hasn't owled him yet he'll just go find the ginger himself. But first, he's off to get some food, because he's absolutely famished.

"Oh, master Harry!" somebody says behind him just before he walks into the kitchen.

Harry turns slowly around to see one of the muggle laundry maids struggling to hold three baskets all at once. She's in the usual female-maid attire: a flowery printed dress bunched up in the back so it won't wave out and get attached to anything it's not supposed to, a matching bonnet to keep the hair out of her face, and thin moccasin-like shoes (all the rage lately, thanks to the American's stumbling upon a human race called _Indians_).

"Hello, Mariah," Harry says, instantly reaching over to help her position the baskets in an improved way. "Better?"

She smiles at him like he's some sort of knight in shining armor. Of course, all of the knights have shining armor, but it beats having no armor at all. "Thank you so much, sir," she says, turning to continue down the corridor. "You're so kind to your servants."

"You're not servants when you're paid," Harry says with his own smile, waving goodbye to her before he turns back to the kitchen door. Mariah is very pretty, but she's not the type of girl he can envision spending the rest of his life with. There's always Ginevra, but she's so…she's quite the interventionist woman. Harry can't really see himself being second in the household to his wife.

Shaking his head, he pushes open the kitchen door. He shouldn't be thinking about marriage yet. He's just eighteen today, after all. Wizards in this day and age aren't adults until nineteen. He still has a few more years before he should allow himself to look for a bride.

Walking into the kitchen, he begins heading straight to the other end, where he knows the bread rolls are kept. And he can ask Jonathan (the Potter's main chef) to help him get some butter.

The kitchen is long, and halfway through it, it curves to the right. So from where Harry is, he can't see anything.

But he does hear a familiar voice—one that he can't exactly place, but familiar nonetheless. Familiar as in he's heard it, but also familiar in the sense that it shouldn't be anywhere near the kitchen.

"I don't suppose you've ever attempted a truffle pudding before, have you?" the voice asks.

"Only a couple of times, sir," Jonathan answers back with an under-the-breath chuckle. There's the clinking of pans, so he must be preparing food at the same time he talks to the voice.

"And how did it turn out?"

"Not as well as I wished it would have." Jonathan grunts.

"Oh, here, let me help!" the voice says.

"Oh, thank you very much, sir."

"Jonathan! Jonathan! Here's the last bucket of water for you!" That's a different voice. One Harry knows very well. Madeline, who happens to be Mariah's identical twin sister apart from their very different voices. Mariah is deep and full of authority, while Madeline's is high pitched and cute.

Harry steps around the corner of the kitchen. He's too hungry to care about eavesdropping anymore. Besides, it's really quite rude.

The scene before it makes the soles of his feet freeze to the kitchen floor.

Jonathan is in his usual white chef outfit and has an entire counter covered as he's preparing the dessert for later in the evening, Madeline is in the same outfit as her sister and is pouring a bucket of water into a large pot that's usually used for making large amounts of soup, and the familiar voice has his hands absolutely covered in flour as he kneads the dough for a few loaves of bread. His platinum blond (nearly white) hair is up in a stylish ponytail, held up by a silvery-blue ribbon with a few inches of bangs parted down the middle on either side of his face. His pants are most obviously stitched by the same tailor as Harry's, but instead of brown they're a creamy off-white color. His dark blue tailored jacket has bluish-lavender colored collar and cuffs, and the two flaps in the back hang down to the middle of his thighs. The tips of the flowing white shirt underneath his jacket are peaking out at the collar and sleeves, and his dark gray boots are a few inches higher than Harry's are. Even though he's working with flour his clothes are spotless, so he must have used a charm

"Draco Malfoy?" Harry says uncertainly, tilting his head slightly at the Slytherin. A Malfoy would never be caught dead in a place like this. It's a kitchen, after all. This is for people who have to truly work, and the son of Lucius most definitely does not have to work—_especially_ in a kitchen of the Potter estate.

Draco gives a tiny squeak as he whirls around to see who said his name, and then he squeals even louder when he sees that it's Harry.

"What are you doing in—"

Malfoy is suddenly in front of him, pushing him to the side and into the open broom cupboard beside them. He follows Harry in, slamming the door shut. Harry's surprised that they've both managed to fit. Draco's entire body is pressed tightly against Harry's in the small space, and for the first time in his entire life, Harry wishes that broom cupboards were instead broom _closets_, because closets have so much more space in them.

"Merlin's beard!" Harry says, pulling out his wand. "Lumos!" His wand lights up the room and, more specifically, Draco's absolutely terrified face. "What on earth do you think you're _doing_?" he demands.

"Shh!" Draco says, waving his hands in front of Harry's face, like that will actually shut him up. "We can't let anybody hear us in here!" He drops his hands, bending them at the elbows so they're wresting against his chest and so he can play with the white sleeve sticking out of his jacket on his left arm. "Do you know what my father will _do_ to me if he finds out I'm helping the muggles in the _kitchen_? There will be a punishment, and you don't want _anything_ that my father will do to me to happen at your birthday party." He suddenly straightens up from his terrified hunched over look. "Oh, how rude of me. Happy eighteenth birthday, Harry Potter."

He reaches out and shakes the hand that Harry's not holding the wand with.

"How's being older feel?" he asks, smiling brightly down at the Gryffindor. Draco is a few inches taller than Harry, though Harry's never realized.

Harry just blinks up at him. The first time he speaks to the son of his fathers coworker is after being pushed into the kitchen broom cupboard, and said son is asking Harry about how his _birthday_ feels?

"I demand you tell me what's going on here this _instant_!" Harry says, shaking his wand at the blond. "I am not going to tolerate being shoved into a cupboard in my own kitchen by a boy who doesn't belong here in the first place!"

Draco gives a small eye roll. "Oh, calm down, won't you? Just because it's your birthday doesn't mean you can rule the world. All I did for my birthday was spend a day in the Americas. I've never been somewhere so barbaric. So I think you can stand being in a cupboard with a boy you've never spoken to before."

"Malfoy, if you don't let me out of here I'll—"

"Not until I'm in complete surety!"

Harry frowns. "Surety of what?"

His face goes back to being terrified. "Promise that you won't tell anybody that I was in here. If my father finds out there will be hell to pay, and I'm running out of hell to pay him with. Please don't tell a soul about this. I'm _begging_ you."

And he really is begging Harry. His hands are folded and his elbows are bent up and his knees are bent so that his face is level with Harry's.

"I don't see why I should," Harry says, leaning away from the blond slightly. "You pushed me into a cupboard, after all."

Draco's face falls, so far that Harry instantly apologizes:

"Oh, alright, alright, I'm sorry!.I'll do it. I mean, I won't do it. I promise that I won't tell anybody you were in the kitchen. Just…let me out of here. It's not really my plan to spend my birthday in a broom cupboard." Merlin, is this some sort of cruel joke? Draco is a _Slytherin_.

"Don't worry," Draco says, turning around to face the door. "It wasn't exactly what I had in mind either." He opens the door and, after peeking out, pulls Harry out with him.

Jonathan gives them a single look before burying his face back into one of his pots, and Madeline is nowhere to be seen.

"It's been a pleasure, Draco," Harry says darkly, turning around to go back the way he came. He's not hungry anymore.

"Oh, wait." Draco reaches out and grabs to the fabric of Harry's vest at his side, pulling him back over to him. "Your hair is a mess. You must have been attacked by a broom." He reaches out to Harry's raven-black hair, his fingers twisting into the locks and smoothing them out. "There. Much—oh, I lied." He reaches out and adjusts the way that Harry's glasses are sitting on his face. Harry didn't even notice that they were crooked. "Now you're good. What about me? Is there any dust on my arse?" He turns around, twisting his upper-half around so that he can look at his backside.

Harry's face suddenly seems a whole lot hotter.

"Uh…um…" Harry says, shaking his head to remind himself that he's looking for dust and not admiring Draco's pants. "No, there's no dust, but the…um, the…uh…"

"The what?" Draco asks, craning his neck to see what Harry's seeing.

"The…the button. The button on your jacket. One of them is undone."

"Oh, I didn't notice from over here. Could you get that?"

Harry looks up at him, blinking. "I beg your pardon?"

"Could you button it back up for me?" he asks, turning around completely. "I can't reach it very well on my own, and very well can't go around with my jacket undone."

"Oh, um, yes. Yes." Harry reaches forward, fumbling awkwardly with the button. Harry's finger grazes the part of Draco's pants over his arse through the thin line of no fabric between the two flaps on accident, and his hand snaps back. Harry's thankful that Draco can't see his face, because he can feel the blush creeping over the entire spread of his skin. He's not sure why, though. He helps Ronald get dressed all the time. Why is Draco any different? It must be because he doesn't know him very well. Besides, his pants are so much more malleable than Harry's. The same design, but a different fabric. They are most definitely not from the same tailor.

"There," Harry says, dropping his hands and taking a step back.

"That lacked grace," Draco says, turning around to face the Gryffindor with a warm smile. "Thank you—and especially for promising not to tell anybody about my being in here. I'll see you at your birthday feast!" He waves merrily goodbye as he goes out of the opposite side of the kitchen that Harry came in through.

Harry groans to himself. Not only is he hungry again, but he has no idea what exactly all just happened. First he was passing the time as he waited for his best friends to show up, and the next thing he knew he was pressed against a boy he's never spoken to in a tiny broom cupboard.

"Jonathan," Harry says, pushing his fingers through his hair and probably screwing it up again. At least his face isn't too hot anymore.

"Yes, master Harry?" Jonathan asks, turning around. He's most definitely been laughing.

"Don't tell anybody about Draco Malfoy being in here, please. His father doesn't want him in the kitchens. Oh, and tell Madeline when she comes in here next."

"Yes, sir."

Harry nods before walking quickly out of the kitchen.

Only when he's halfway back to his bedroom does he realize that he never did grab any food.

**XxX**

As soon as Harry walks into his bedroom he sees Ronald and Hermione sitting on his bed.

"There you are, mate!" Ronald says, jumping up. "Where've you been?"

Harry's feels the blush creeping back into his face, so he quick switches the blame: "Where have _I_ been? Where were _you_ two? I waited for at least an hour on that balcony for you to send me an owl that you were here! A boy gets hungry after an hour!"

Hermione purses her lips. "Then where's the food?"

"Already ate it," Harry says instantly, adjusting his glasses slightly. "Come on, let's go get more. I didn't grab enough."

Harry uses his magic to put a locking charm on his door before he and his two friends go back down the corridors of the manor. Instead of going to the kitchen, though, they go into the parts of the Great Hall of the manor, where it's been opened to the public for Harry's birthday.

"Oh, Harry!"

Harry, Ronald, and Hermione turn around to see Lavender Brown and Pansy Parkinson walking over to them. Lavender is dressed in—of course—a billowing lavender dress with pink roses tucked into her hair. Pansy is dressed in a rosy-pink dress, her neck, wrists, ears, and hair adorned in purls.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" both girls say as they lean in and give Harry a kiss on either cheek. "You look so handsome," Lavender says. "And your emerald matches your eyes so perfectly," Pansy gushes, stroking a finger down it.

"Uh, thanks," Harry says awkwardly, taking a step away in such a way that they don't notice he's trying to get away from their touch.

"Well, we'll see you later!" Pansy says, taking Lavender's hand. "Blaise and Seamus are waiting for us!" They giggle as they walk swiftly but respectably past and out of the doors that lead into the front yard.

"_Women_," Hermione scoffs, flipping the long braid of her hair with one hand while the other is twined with Ronald's. She's wearing a thinner dress than most women at the party, the color of the ice over the lake—the kind of ice with just a tinge of blue in it. Her own jewelry consists of sapphires and diamonds, with daisies wrapped into her braid and one of them tucked behind her ear. Flowers are all the rage, lately. Not for Ronald, though, who's dressed similar to Harry except that his white pants are cut off at the knee to reveal white tights, and his gloves are white as well. Actually, his black vest and dark red undershirt are mostly covered by his tailored black jacket, not very unlike Draco's.

Harry shakes his head back and forth when he realizes that he's checking the back buttons to see if they're undone.

Even with Ronald and Hermione at his sides, Harry is absolutely smothered by his birthday guests.

The Hogwarts professors tell him that school won't be the same without him—indeed, Snape specifically thinks that it will be better. Of course, Lupin just swatted his shoulder at that comment, but Snape only smiled a very un-Snape-like smile at the werewolf.

"I do hope they're not going to get into a relationship similar to the one between Albus and Grindelwald," Ronald says, pulling Harry lightly by the elbow to go and see the other Weasley's.

"Oh, I don't think it'd be too dreadful," Hermione says.

"It would be so much worse," Harry says, giving her a look. "Can you imagine Christmas at Sirius'? Or even visits to the Burrow? Besides, everybody knows that Nymphadora has been dying for Remus to court her since they met."

"Harry! Oh, Harry, love, over here!"

Harry, Ronald, and Hermione turn to see Harry's mother calling him from a ways away. She's in a dress of Gryffindor red, while Harry's father beside her is dressed in mostly gold. Their attire always compliments the others.

And there, beside them, are the Malfoy's. All three of them. Lucius looks similar to Draco, but his jacket is dark green instead of dark blue, and he also has on an expensive looking top hat. Narcissa is in nothing but black, naturally.

"Just meet us at the lake, Harry," Hermione says as she and Ronald continue on.

Harry nods at them before making his way over to the five others. "Hello, mother," he says, linking his arm into hers. "Hello, father. You called?"

"We did," Lily says. "It has come to our attention that you have yet to be properly introduced to the youngest member of the Malfoy family."

Harry looks over at Draco with feint curiosity. "No, I don't suppose we have." He holds his free hand out to the blond, who has a face that secretes absolute boredom from every pore. "Harry Potter, at your service."

Draco takes Harry's hand lightly in his, like touching him will cause him to attract whatever unknown disease Harry doesn't have. "Draco Malfoy. So nice to finally meet you." He drops his hand away instantly, fisting it behind his back.

Ah yes, that's why Harry doesn't much like the Slytherin. He treats everyone around him like a carrier of an undiscovered plague. But…he wasn't like this in the kitchen. Two-faced, then. It must be under Lucius' influence. Harry would be scared about everything with that man as his father as well.

"Well, now that that's over with," Narcissa says with a warm smile, "Run along, both of you."

Harry snaps his head over to her. "I beg your pardon?"

"Don't be rude, now, son," James says. "The boy doesn't want to stand around listening to us adults jabber away. Take him with you; introduce him to your other friends."

"But _father_," Draco hisses, looking up at Lucius. "He's friend with the _Weasley's_."

Lucius looks down at him with eyes like the devil. No wonder Draco is running out of hell to pay him; he has to steal it all from his father in the first place.

"Now, now, Draco," he says quietly. "Let's not be rude as well. It's only for the party."

Draco turns away and fixates his eyes on Harry's. "Yes, sir."

"Off you go, then!" Lily says, kissing Harry's cheek and unlinking their arms. "Tell Ronald and Hermione hello for us."

Harry nods absentmindedly, paying attention to Draco walking haughtily to his side.

"You're nicer when you're terrified," Harry mutters to Draco as they walk away.

"I have to be this way around him," he whispers back. "I told you, I'm running out of hell."

"You'll need to gather a lot more if you plan on surviving at least another year being absolutely two-faced."

Draco looks down at Harry with a glare. "Listen here, you pompous windbag. Stay out of my personal affairs. You know _nothing_ about my family."

"I could, if you'd like," Harry says, adjusting his glove so he doesn't have to look at the blond. He's not entirely sure why he said it, but he's sure there's a reason floating around somewhere inside of his mind.

Draco is silent for a few moments. "I don't really hate the Weasley's, you know," he eventually says. "It's just because of my father. He's a lot less reserved when we're in the confines of our own manor. But don't tell anybody I said that. My hell collection will fly right out the window."

Harry nods. "I won't. I already have secrets of yours to keep, so why not add more?"

When he looks up, the blond is staring down at him with his eyes crinkled up in a warm smile. "Thank you again, by the way. It's very hard keeping secrets on my own sometimes. Oh, and I must say, you smell positively exquisite. What perfume are you wearing?"

Harry blinks at him. Did he just…what? "I...um…am unaware. Mother bought it for me as a gift a couple of weeks ago.

"Ah. How tragic. Could you show it to me, maybe? After the feast? I do love a good perfume."

Harry nods. "Of course."

Draco nods as well. "Do you read?"

"Books?"

"What else?"

Harry shakes his head slightly. "You're very good at changing the subject, Draco."

He smiles. "I am, aren't I? Nymphadora, darling, you're dress is positively _beautiful_."

Harry turns to see Nymphadora walking with her arm linked with Hagrid in a friendly manner.

"Oh, hello, Draco!" she says, waving a gloved hand. Her dress is indeed beautiful, hues of royal purple and a glowing pink swirled into an elegant swath of layers and layers of fabric. Her hair is a blond similar to Draco's with purple streaks to match. "Happy birthday, Harry!" She lets go of Hagrid to give Harry a rough hug. She never was one for being ladylike.

"'Arry!" Hagrid says, smiling down at Harry from his towering height. "Eighteen, are ye' now? I 'eard Lily was gonna break out yer baby photos!"

"Just this morning," Harry says, nodding. "And I really hope she doesn't. They're quite embarrassing."

"Oh, I'm sure you're just the cutest little thing," Draco says, lightly grasping Harry's elbow to pull him along. "We'll see you at the feast!"

Harry waves goodbye before looking up at the blond and pulling his elbow away. "What was that for? I was still talking to them."

"Yes, but your friends are waiting for you over yonder. See? Down there, in the gazebo on the island."

Harry follows Draco's finger to the small island in the lake, where Ronald and Hermione are waving at them. Harry waves back to let them know that he sees them. "Alright, if you really want to meet them, then."

"Of course I do. I like to know the people that I'm pretending to hate, you know."

They walk until they're at the edge of the lake.

"How do we get across?" Draco asks, twisting his fingers in the fabric of his left sleeve.

"Like so." Harry pulls out his wand and, doing a simple wave above the lake, the water parts from the shoreline to the island, creating a dry and rock-less pathway to Ronald and Hermione. The lake is of course deeper, but with such a spell the sand there rises for a pathway. "Come on, I can see their confused faces now."

Draco bites on his bottom lip. "Can I trust them?"

Harry tilts his head slightly. "What do you mean?"

"You're the only wizard of my class that knows I'm not as ill-mannered as I pretend to be. I don't want…" He sighs. "I don't want to give you a reason to hate me. I mean, if I can trust them I can be myself, but if I can't then I'm just going to be a rude as I always am."

Harry straightens his head up. "I don't even understand why you trust _me_, let alone trusting me to trust two other people."

Draco frowns. "Fine then, I'll just go find my House mates. At least they're used to my being a _sham_."

He turns away, but Harry reaches out and grabs his hand to stop him. "Oh, alright, alright, I'm sorry. Merlin, what is it with you and guilt-tripping? Of course you can trust them. They're my best friends. Just…let me do the talking first."

Draco turns around with a smile one might see on a small child about to receive a bag of sweets. "Oh goody, I do so enjoy new wizard friends. Muggles are the only ones that are very good at keeping secrets, in my opinion, so I like to associate myself with them in the same secrets."

"Yes, yes, keep your cufflinks on." Harry pulls the blond along after him. Draco lets himself be pulled for about halfway before he instead walks with Harry, speeding up until he's at his side. His hand is soft, but the tips of his fingers are calloused, like he writes or paints too much. His fingers are wrapped tightly around the palm of Harry's hand, but Harry doesn't realize it all until he walks up the steps of the gazebo on the island and sees Hermione blinking down at them.

He pulls his arm away from Draco, who instantly begins playing with his sleeve again.

"Ronald, Hermione, I'd like to introduce you to the youngest Malfoy member, Draco. Draco, my best friends."

"Pleasure," the two Gryffindor's say simultaneously, looking at him like some sort of Knockturn Alley peasant.

"Lovely to meet you," Draco says, giving them a shy smile that causes their eyes to go confused again.

"You can't tell anyone," Harry says to them, "but he's really an alright bloke to be around. I mean, if you, uh, well…" Harry decides he won't mention the kitchen scene. Draco might still want to keep that secret, and he's quite sure he wants to keep it secret himself. "Anyway, just give him a chance."

Ronald gives a posh sigh. "Anything for you, Harry." He turns to Draco. "I'm Ronald Weasley, and this is my lady, Hermione Granger. We're both thrilled to meet you, I'm sure."

Hermione nods daintily, her eyes fixated upon Harry. "Of course he's sure. It's lovely to meet you, Draco."

Harry sighs awkwardly. "So, uh, how are you two doing?" he asks his best friends to quick get a conversation going before the awkward level rises.

They look at each other with stupid grins and shimmering eyes. "Perfect," Ronald says at the same time Hermione gushes, "Absolutely splendid."

Harry nods, glancing over at Draco, who's paying so much attention to his sleeve that Harry reaches over and stills the hand that's fiddling with it.

Draco looks up at him with wide eyes at first, like the sudden movement scared him stiff, but when he sees that it's just Harry he softens. "Sorry," he says, sprouting a small grin.

"Whatever for?" Harry asks. "Sleeves can be a nightmare."

Draco chews lightly on the inside of his cheek. "Do you ride?"

Harry's hand drops back to his side. "Horses?"

"As opposed to Blast-Ended Skrewts? Yes, horses."

"I…no. I stick to broomsticks whenever I can. Why?"

Draco just nods, looking out over the lake.

"Harry, dear."

Harry snaps his head over to Hermione. "Yes?"

"Well, it's a rather private issue I'd like to discuss with you, actually…"

Before Harry can open his mouth to reply, the voice of Harry's father booms across the vast acres of the Potter estate:

"My honored guests! It is my privilege to announce to you that the eighteenth birthday feast for my son, Harry James Potter, is being laid out as I speak! If you would be so kind as to make your way into the main hall, our house elves will magic all of our dining tables into the yard so that we may feast under the glorious sunset!"

A small laugh from each person on the property makes for an echoing item nearly as loud as James' booming voice.

"Off we go, then," Ronald says, smiling down at Hermione and walking towards the water. He waves his wand and steps onto the dry sand that emerges in one swift movement, and they slowly make their way to the feast. Hermione must still be starving, because Harry realized yet again that food has yet to grace their lips.

Harry turns to follow them, but then he sees that Draco hasn't moved at all. He's still staring out over the lake.

"Draco," Harry says, reaching out and setting a hand on his shoulder.

The blond jumps slightly, but calms when he sees that it's only Harry for the second time. "Have you ever wondered what lies beneath the surface of your lake?"

Harry blinks at him. "There's no need to wonder. I know most of what resides inside the waters. But we can discuss it later. It's time to go in so that the house elves can apparate outside the tables and food that have been set up for the feast."

Draco gives him a confused look. "We're eating outside?"

Harry nods.

"Oh goody!" Draco bounds towards the lake pathway, but Harry dives forward and wraps an arm around his waist to yank him back just as the water crashes back down because Ronald and Hermione stepped onto the shore on the other side.

"Careful," Harry says with a quiet laugh. "The water only stays open as long as the person who waved the wand is still on it."

Draco's wide eyes turn down to Harry. "Good thing you caught me, then, or I would be very wet."

"And very miserable. Come on, I can't be late for my own feast." Harry snakes his arm away from Draco's waist as he waves his wand to part the water. As he takes a step down to the lakebed, his left arm swings back at the slight momentum—but it doesn't come back down.

Harry turns around as he walks to see Draco's hand around his again, and when he looks up to see the blonds face he instead sees him staring transfixed into the parted waters.

"What sort of animals do you have in there?" he asks quietly.

"A lot of muggle things, actually. Fish and miniature whales and smaller species of sharks. Crabs and frogs and salamanders. And I'm pretty sure there's a pod of merfolk somewhere in there… Stuff like that."

They step out of the lake, and Harry catches a glimpse of a shimmering yellow tail as the waters crash back into each other.

"Oi, Harry!"

Draco yanks his hand away from Harry's so fast that it hurts, but Harry ignores it and turns to see Fredrick and George walking towards them.

"Hello, Fredrick," Harry says. "Evening, George. Enjoying yourselves?"

"Ugh, Weasley's," Draco scoffs. "I'll see you at the feast, Harry." As he walks away, though, Harry notices that he's playing with his sleeve again.

"We were wondering about him," George says, frowning after the blond.

"Our parents had the lovely idea to send him with me to make friends with your brother and his lady," Harry replies. He wants to help the idea that Draco is an ill-mannered pig, for Draco's own sake in the silent war against his father.

"Ahh…" they say together. "Tragic."

Harry refrains from saying any such thing about it actually being quite lovely as the three of them walk together to the main hall, where all of the guests are particularly packed. A few moments later, as the last of them straggle in, James' voice booms through again:

"Honored guests! You are to sit where you see fit, but the table in the middle is off limits, for my son will be there with five others of his choosing to fill up his birthday table!"

The guests clap for Harry before filing out into the front yard again, but Harry slinks into the shadows so he can walk out last and choose his guests. When he walks outside, everyone stands up to clap for him. The twins even whoop and holler from one of the two tables filled with Weasley's and Granger's. Very ungentlemanly of them, but then again, Harry's never met a pair of men so immature in their highly esteemed class. He loves it.

"Thank you, thank you!" Harry says into his wand after performing a sonorous charm. "Another year, another age, and another year closer to obtaining my own manor, thank Merlin." The crowd laughs. "I'd like to thank all of you for taking the time to come out here, and I apologize to all of you who I've yet to say hello! There will be plenty of time after the feast and the gifts, as will there be plenty of time in the years to come! Before I choose the five that will share my table, I'd like to say a few words, this being my first summer after finally graduating from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." The crowd claps. "Albus—and I can call you by your first name, now, though you'll _always_ be my professor—I'd like to thank you for protecting me from things throughout my years that I'd happily never see again."

Harry doesn't say out loud his confrontation with "Fluffy" in first year because his curiosity got the better of him. Nor his run-in with the Basilisk in second year when he was close friends with Moaning Myrtle and she wanted to show him how she had stumbled upon the place and gotten killed. And in third year, when Harry mistakenly went on a walk with Remus under the full moon. And in fourth year when Harry went into the third Triwizard Tournament task to save Cedric Diggory from the riddling Sphinx, and instead saw with his own eyes the Hufflepuff being ripped apart by the part-lioness's jaws. Fifth year he became friends with Luna Lovegood and was nearly killed by the stallion thestral, sixth year he was nearly trampled upon by the herd of Centaurs in the Forbidden Forest (the last two years the reason he's afraid of horses), and in seventh year when the dementors broke free from their duty in the holdings of Azkaban (for those that were to be burnt at the stake) and knocked him off of his broom in a Quidditch match. Harry was always good at getting himself into trouble. Damned Gryffindor genes.

"My best friends, of course," Harry continues, smiling over at Ronald and Hermione at the same table as the twins. "And my parents, obviously," Harry says, grinning over at James and Lily at a table with the three Malfoy's, Thomas, and Bellatrix.

And speaking of which… "And I'd just like to point out that… Well, Thomas." Thomas straightens up as everybody looks at him. "Good luck."

The crowd laughs as Thomas turns and presses a kiss to the forehead of his fiancé, who's cackling almost louder than everybody else. She went a bit strange when her first husband died, but Thomas has nearly managed to bring her back to her best. It will be odd hearing about an astronomy professor who teaches her students without trying to catch the constellations once he completely succeeds.

"And I suppose that's everything," Harry says with a smile. Everyone he loves is around him. The Weasley's, his parents, his godfather, his professors, and everybody else. Even Draco, who Harry can see sitting beside both his own mother and Harry's mother. "Now for my choice in table guests."

The crowd silences, anticipating the event. Harry only ever chooses those to share his table that are in the same age range as him, as having Remus or Sirius sit with the rest of his friends would pose for awkward conversation.

"Ronald, Hermione, Luna, Ginevra, and—" He cuts himself off. He was about to say Draco's name, but when his eyes land on him, the blond is shaking his forehead back and forth in a frantic no. "Neville!" Harry says lastly, and then he turns off his sonorous. He understands why Draco wouldn't want to be there with him. Being around the only three people in his class that know how lovely he really is to be around, but having to still pretend he's the most important thing in the world…not the most enjoyable experience.

For the first time in all his eighteen years, Harry pays more attention to members around him than the members of his table. Draco won't stop playing with his sleeve, and he's hardly even touching his food. But he does it in such a snobbish way that, if Harry didn't know he had a different side, he wouldn't have noticed any of those things. He would have just been seething on the inside at how pompous someone could possibly be, thinking they're better than everybody else just because they're a higher class.

Halfway through the feast, Draco happens to look up at a time that Harry is staring at him. The blond glances just barely to see if anybody is looking at him, and when he turns back to Harry he sticks his tongue out and crosses his eyes for a fraction of a second.

Harry slams his hand over his mouth and looks into his lap so nobody hears his laughter, and when he peaks back up at Draco, the blond is back to playing with his sleeve and not eating. Just as Harry turns away, though, he gives a discrete wink.

Harry grins as he turns back to his supper, smiling normally at Ginevra at his side. It's Harry, Ginevra, Luna, Neville, Hermione, and then Ronald all at the circular table. There are many other tables like this, enough to accommodate over sixty people. Harry doesn't know exactly how many people are here, really. All of the Hogwarts professors. All of the members of the Order of the Phoenix, which was created to protect the wizarding world in case any sort of evil rose up. All of Harry's Housemates. All of the Slytherin Housemates, though Harry's not entirely sure who invited them. Some Ravenclaw's and a few Hufflepuff's. Harry could name all of them if he wanted to, but he finds that he doesn't want to take up the time he could be making faces at Draco doing such a thing.

"Harry, darling," Luna says in her usual voice, dreamy like sleep and lofty like the clouds.

"Mmm, yes?" Harry asks after swallowing his bite of food as not to be rude and speak with food hanging out of his mouth.

"I was wondering, do you have any mistletoe around your manor?"

Harry presses his lips into a thin line, honestly trying to think about it. He knows not to question Luna's slightly insanity; Neville's slowly bringing her back as well as Thomas is bringing back Bellatrix.

"No, I can't say we do," he eventually says. "We don't keep out of season plants around because we can just grow them when we need to."

She nods. "Good. It's bad luck unless it's Christmas time."

The rest of the feast finishes swiftly, as does the dessert that the house elves apparate onto the tables afterwards. When everyone is finished, James instructs everyone to stand behind their chairs. When they do, the tables and chairs disappear entirely, back in the recesses of the manor to be cleaned and put back into their underground storage.

Harry looks over at where Draco's table had been with a smile to invite him to walk around with he, Ronald, and Hermione again, but the Slytherin his eyes are searching for isn't anywhere near his previous location. Harry spins around in a circle twice before he catches a glimpse of a platinum blond ponytail disappearing into the manor.

"Harry," Hermione says to him, "I was wonder—"

"Just a moment, please." Harry walks as fast as he can across the yard without looking like he's trying to discretely chase something (which he is, but he doesn't want to look it) until he gets inside of his manor, but as soon as he's inside and the door is shut behind him he starts twice as fast. He pulls out a map of his manor from his back pocket, which he found in his father's of bedroom a couple of years ago.

"_Draco Malfoy_" is walking swiftly towards the kitchen, and Harry realizes that he doesn't even need to change his direction. He was going that way anyway.

He puts the map away when he walks inside of the kitchen, because Draco's stopped as well.

"I can assure you, sir, it was not I who told a soul," Jonathan's voice says from around the corner.

"But you must know someone who could have!" Draco's voice says, his voice hoarse and staccato. "Who was that girl? The one with the dark red hair? She came in here and filled up that cauldron there."

"Madeline? No, she told me that she did not tell anyone. I suppose she could have been lying, but—"

Harry walks around the corner just as Draco's slams his forehead down and against the counter. "No! It must have been her! Nobody else saw me! Nobody else but—"

"Draco?" Harry says, stopping a few feet from the blond.

Draco snaps up into a standing position. His eyes are red and there are tears streaming down his face. "Harry! You're the only other one who could have! But I know you didn't, because you were with me, and whenever you weren't with me I was with him! So you couldn't have!"

"Draco, it's okay," Harry says quietly, reaching his arms out to the blond. Harry had meant to just be holding his arms out to give the Slytherin a sense of calm, but instead Draco falls forward and into Harry's arms, pressing his face into Harry's shoulder and letting the tears soak the cloth there.

"No it's not!" he whimpers into Harry's shoulder. "He found out! I don't know how, but he did!"

"Who?" Harry asks, wrapping his arms around Draco's back.

"My father."

Harry groans. "But how could he have? I told Jonathan not to tell anyone, and I told him to tell Madeline to keep quiet about it too! I trust them to have kept it completely secret."

"Then I don't know! He must have…must have… Maybe I missed part of my sleeve when I was charming it." He leans away from Harry just enough that he can pull his arms between them and examine the sleeves. "Maybe I got some flour on my jacket and I didn't see it… No, nothing. I couldn't have…no, not that either. Maybe he has spies. We brought one of our house elves along, I think. Maybe he's…watching me." Draco pulls away from Harry completely, spinning around the room. "Dobby! I command you come to me at _once_!"

There's a tiny whimper, but then a small crack, and a house elf with shimmering blue golf ball sized eyes appears in front of Draco.

"Dobby did not mean to, sirs!" he says, wringing his hands and staring up at Draco as tears begin to form. "Dobby had to! Master senior told Dobby that he must watch over Draco in case anything happened to him! But when Dobby went to tell master senior that Draco was okay, he asked him what he had been doing! Dobby had to, sirs! Dobby _had_ to tell him where Draco was!" He's full-out crying, now, tears and bogies streaming down his face.

Draco glares down at the elf. "Magic _scum_," he growls. "Just _wait_ until we get home! I'm going to—"

Harry swats Draco's lightly in the arm. _This_ is why he's Slytherin. He may be a cute little kitten, but he's rabid when he's threatened. "Don't talk like that," he says, glaring up at the blond. "You heard him. He had to. Give the little elf a break!"

The house elf called Dobby falls to Harry's feet, sobbing at his shoes. "Oh, thank you, thank you, master! Master Harry is so kind to Dobby, and Dobby does not even know him!"

"It's okay," Harry says, stepping away. "You don't have to ruin my boots in thanks."

Dobby instantly sets to cleaning the boots off of his tears and snot.

When Harry looks back up at the blond, he's glaring slightly, but his hand is over his mouth to try and mask the sound of his crying.

"Oh, come here, you child," Harry says, holding his arms out again.

Draco gives a painful gasp when he pulls his hand away, like he'll fall apart in the small time that he's not being held by at least something. He's taller than Harry, but he still manages to wrap his arms around the Gryffindor's waist and rest his face against his chest.

"There, there," Harry whispers, patting him lightly on the back. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Draco sniffles. "Torture, probably."

Harry freezes. "Don't tell me you're serious, or all that hell that your father has been stocking up will end up in my _own_ storage after I'm through with him."

Another sniffle. "I, uh…no. I wasn't serious."

Harry puts his hands on the blond's shoulders and pushes him away. "You liar. Of course you were serious. Don't be a Hufflepuff about it. I know he's your father, but that doesn't mean that he can torture you for making dough in my kitchen. You're—well, how old are you, anyway? Eighteen yet?"

Draco nods. "Just last month."

"See! You're even older than I am, and my _own_ parents wouldn't care if I _slept_ in the kitchen. Granted, they'd advice against it, and I probably wouldn't do it anyway, but that's not the point. You're nine months till you're a legal adult and can move away from his tyrannous rule."

He just shakes his head and falls back into Harry, his arms around the Gryffindor's shoulders and his face pressed into the space between Harry's neck and shoulder.

"Hey, where did your house elf go?" Harry asks, stretching to look at the floor around Draco.

Draco whimpers. "Father must have called him back. That means he…he… Oh, Harry, he'll _know_! He'll know I'm crying in the kitchen like a child again, held by another _man_!" He pulls away from Harry almost as fast as he had pulled his hand away when the twins had come along. "He's going to _kill_ me!"

"What's so bad about being consoled by someone of the same sex?" Harry asks. "We're just friends."

Draco blushes slightly. "My father always assumes the extreme when it comes to me and another man."

"Oh? Whatever for?"

Draco blushes even deeper, and Harry wishes that he knew why. "No reason," he whispers. "Let's just assume that I'll run out of hell when I get home tonight."

"No," Harry says, surprised at his sudden anger. He only truly met the blond today, after all. "You won't even go home tonight. You'll stay here with me. We have plenty of extra rooms, and my parents will be perfectly alright with it if we explain all of this to them at least somewhat."

Draco is shaking his head no before Harry is done talking. "No, I can't! Father would never allow it, and I couldn't possibly explain it to another's parents. They might report it to the Ministries' Head of Family Affairs!"

"Draco, that's Molly Weasley. She's my second mother. The worst she could do is tell her son about it."

"Harry!" Draco wails histrionically. "Her son is the _Minister_ of _Magic_!"

"Oh, alright, alright, I'm sorry! We won't tell anyone. I'll just tell them that you _need_ to stay."

"No, Harry, I _can't_! You can't even _imagine_ what will happen to me in the end! Father will _murder_ me in my _sleep_."

"Nonsense! Our wards have never been breached."

"But…but…" He starts playing with his sleeve again.

Harry sighs before reaching out to still the blonds' hands again. "Draco, please. You can't let this keep happening. You can't let yourself be in constant fear of your own father."

"Yes I can! There's only nine months left! That's nothing compared to eighteen years…"

Harry drops his hands to his sides. "If you don't let yourself stay here, I'll tell someone."

Draco's face pales whiter than his hair. "You wouldn't."

Harry crosses his arms like a stubborn child. "Wouldn't I?"

Harry's never seen someone look so torn. The two stand there in silence for what seems like forever, but Draco finally caves. His entire body crumples, and he leans heavily against the counter beside him, and the dried tears on his cheeks spring silently back to life.

"I never should have trusted you," he whispers. "I should have just wiped your memory and escaped from the kitchen as quickly as I could. I…I hate you."

"And that's something I'm fully prepared to live with if it means that you're protected. Come on, now." Harry steps forward and wipes Draco's tears with his thumbs. He also notices that his left sleeve has come down a bit, so he pushes it back up to his elbow. "Everyone is wondering where we are, I'm sure."

Draco bites his bottom lip. "Could I borrow some powder?" he asks quietly. "I don't want father to be able to _tell_ I was crying."

Harry gives him a sad smile. "Of course you can. It's up in my room, though. I can show you my perfumes as well."

Draco smiles like he's going to receive even more treats than before. "Lead the way."

"No need for leading," Harry says, taking Draco's hands in his. "Potter's are able to apparate inside of parts of their own homes."

Draco grins just before there's a crack, leaving a very amused Jonathan alone in the kitchen.

**XxX**

The two boys appear outside of Harry's bedroom, but it's easy for Harry to unlock his door with his wand and make his way inside. Draco follows him in, and the door shuts behind them automatically. It's a feature Harry magicked to it so he wouldn't have to yell out of the door for his parents to shut it behind them when they left after speaking to him for whatever purpose. The manor workers always shut it, and the house elves never need to open it.

"The perfume is around here somewhere…" Harry says, going over to his dresser/desk with his giant mirror and other things he uses to get ready in the morning. He can't very well be seen in public without his powder on now, can he? "I don't know. It's one of these, I believe." He waves his hand at a line of six different bottles of perfume. "You can use anything here as you please. Tell me if you empty something, though, so I can refill it.

"I'm just as capable as anyone to refill things," Draco says as he walks over to the dresser, bending down until his face is level with the perfume labels. Harry remembers how tight the blond's pants had been in the kitchen, so he quickly looks away from the buttons on his jacket and walks over to swing wide the balcony doors. Fresh air is such a lovely thing.

"Where do you keep your pins?" Draco asks after a few moments of letting Harry just stare out of the doors and into the dark sky. Everyone must be inside if it's dark out, because the wizard lights automatically come on if even just one person is walking around outside (unless of course you know how to turn them off). "My bangs keep falling into my face."

_And I wouldn't DARE suggest that you pin it back all the way all the time like your father does,_ Harry thinks. He has wondered about that on occasion. He assumed Draco was the type that wanted to be just like his father, but now he knows just how wrong he is. Draco is _terrified_ of Lucius.

"Right side, second drawer from the bottom," Harry replies as he makes his way over to his bed. He just sits there watching Draco get ready, choosing brushes and powders and perfumes. Pinning up his hair and redoing the buttons at his collar and readjusting his cufflinks since he's mussed them up so bad and checking to make sure there isn't anything on his backside.

Harry jumps up and over to his bedside dresser with moves like a cat. Pulling out a small piece of parchment, he magicks the tip of his wand to become an ink-dipped quill.

_Ronald and Hermione,  
>I'm in my bedroom with Draco so he can test out some of my perfumes. Please come up here with us before I do something rash.<br>And feel free to take your time. He'll most likely be angry at me for letting anybody else in.  
>Affably, Harry.<em>

"What am I _doing_?" he mutters to himself, using his wand to summon an owl. He doesn't even know why he's sending this letter to his two best friends, somewhere in his manor. He's not even sure what he's thinking that he could possibly do that's rash while he's alone in his bedroom with Draco. What could even happen? A pillow fight? They would ruin Harry's fine feather pillows.

"Who's that for?"

Harry turns around to see Draco starring at him through the mirror wearing a puzzled face since Harry is just throwing his arms out to release his favorite owl, Hedwig, to go and deliver his letter.

"Ronald and Hermione. I sort of…left them without telling them where I was going. I was too busy going after you."

He blushes slightly before looking down. "Oh? What did you tell them?"

"Just where we were so they don't panic and send out a search party."

Draco looks back up, his bottom lip between his teeth again. "Will they come up here?"

Harry blinks at him. To lie, or not to lie? "Most likely."

Draco just stares at him for a moment, and he starts to reach for his left sleeve again, but then quick starts to put the powder away. "Better quick fix my hair, then."

"Well, I can tell them not to come, if you want…" _What AM I doing?_

"Oh, no, I don't want to be rude."

"Draco, honestly. If anyone is being rude it's me. I'm forcing you to stay with me, after all. Actually, if they do come up here, I should probably tell them about your staying here."

Draco's hold on a perfume bottle falters, and it drops and shatters to the floor. He looks at Harry with wide, terrified eyes, and Harry instantly knows how thick what he said actually was.

"No, I didn't mean it," Harry says, fixing the bottle and putting the liquid back inside with a flick of his wrist. "I wouldn't tell them anything. All they'll ever know is how like a Hufflepuff you really are."

Draco frowns. "I'm not anything like a—oh, whatever. You can't tell a soul, Harry. Not about the kitchen or about my staying here. Please, because if you do I'll—"

There's a knock on the door.

Harry glances at it before looking steadily at Draco. "I'll tell them to leave."

"Don't," Draco whispers, shaking his head at the same time that he fixes his hair in about two-point-five seconds. "Don't tell them to leave, but don't tell them about…about…"

"Anything?"

"Right. Anything."

With a flick of Harry's wand, the door to his bedroom swings open to reveal his two best friends.

"Oh, I simply _adore_ trying new perfumes on, Ronald," Hermione gushes, clasping her hands together and bustling into the room. "I always use the same one on myself, but darling Ronald can never choose. Which one do _you_ wear, Harry?"

Before Harry can reply, Draco holds up a royal blue bottle with bronze writing and says, "This one. Vintizzy Million. It's the first edition from a recently graduated Ravenclaw named Darla Vezzini. Wonderful woman."

"Ooh, lovely. Ronald, go try some. I still need to speak to Harry, since he so rudely left me for some…other purpose."

He catches Draco throw him a grin before turning to Ronald to help him with the perfume.

"If I weren't a lady, I would curse you into tomorrow," Hermione hisses, stepping right in front of Harry so nobody else hears what she has to say.

But Draco hears her anyway, because his head snaps over to stare at her before slowly turning back to Ronald. But Harry knows he's still listening.

"What did I do _this_ time?" Harry whispers back, just loud enough that he's sure Draco can still hear him as well.

"He's a Slytherin, Harry!" she says in a furious whisper. Does she realize how loud she actually is? "Can your head get any _thicker_?"

Harry frowns. "Not all Slytherin's are as horrible as Snape is. What about Slughorn?"

"We are not talking about _professors_, Harry. We are talking about Malfoy, and he is a _student_. Name _one_ student from Salazar's House that is trustworthy."

"Draco," Harry says instantly.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Other than your blond, Harry. Honestly."

"Um…no professors?"

"No professors."

Harry reaches up and taps his chin. "Pansy is okay. I know she's gotten quite close to Lavender, which is a feat since they're from opposite Houses. So why can't I try with Draco?"

She sighs in a very unladylike manner. She tends to let herself go when she's not around adults or anyone else not of the Gryffindor House. And apparently Draco, because he is definitely not Gryffindor, nor is he quite an adult.

"Because you are _men_. Women can make anything happen, but you…your gender cannot accomplish it! Sometimes a woman cannot even do it."

"But Blaise and Seamus did!"

"No, they _didn't_. They pretend to because the women that they are courting happen to be said women that are very close to each other."

Harry frowns. "They're pretending for their ladies? Who on earth would do that?"

She sighs again. "What do you think Ronald is doing? And _I'm_ only doing this for _you_."

Harry's entire body crumples. "But I thought you guys…I mean…you said…"

"It's called _lying_, Harry," she whispers.

Harry doesn't even have time to do anything. Draco is instantly at his side, everything about him fixed and perfect.

"If I weren't a gentleman," Draco says in one of the calmest voices Harry has ever heard in his life, "I would curse you into tomorrow."

Hermione glowers at him. "Step away, Malfoy. You don't belong here. Not with us, not with Harry."

In response, Draco links his right arm with Harry's left.

Ronald points his wand at Draco. "Don't even touch him."

"As I recall, Granger," Draco says, looking down at Hermione, "you called me _his _blond." Draco twines his fingers into Harry's.

"Because you are," she says, pulling out her own wand and taking a step back so her arm can point at Draco easier. "But that doesn't mean he's _yours_."

"Oh, did I say he was? No, he's not mine at all. I'm more like his…house elf. I protect him."

Harry sees Ronald swing his arm back for a silent spell, and without thinking at all, he spins around in front of Draco, grips to his other arm, and apparates.

**End of Part One**


	2. Part II

**Part Two**

"…_But everything that follows,  
>Everything enticed,<br>Everything intrigued  
>By all these shades of man<em>

_Mere hope keeps them alive  
>Simple wishes burn<br>Coins tossed in the fountain  
>What is your brilliant plan?"<em>

It's a rough landing, but a landing nonetheless. Somewhere inside of the manor…somewhere in the secret garden of the Potter estate. It was the first place that Harry thought of that nobody would ever be able to get to them from. Only a Potter can enter the garden, or anyone else holding on to them. Even if another person knows where it is (which Ronald and Hermione do) they're unable to enter without the apparating makeup of a Potter.

Harry is lying on his back in a pile of a muggle foliage plant called creeping wirevine. Draco is a few feet over, pushing himself up from his stomach and onto his hands and knees.

_I suppose I can't be mad at them_, Harry thinks. _I lied too, after all. Not to them, but to Draco…which is almost worse, considering what's happened between us. How can a lifetimes worth of trust be packed into a single day, anyway? I do not want to know._

"Harry?" Draco says, pushing himself up on his knees. "Harry, where are—oh." Draco crawls over to Harry, sitting with his legs folded beneath him beside the Gryffindor. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not sure," Harry says.

"Guess."

Harry shifts his eyes over to the Slytherin. His hair is a mess, but his powder is still perfect, and he smells far too good. "Draco, I have to tell you something."

"It's okay," Draco says. "I already know."

Harry frowns. "About what?"

"About the letter that you sent to your friends. I know what it really said, about my testing perfumes and you needing them with us so you wouldn't do anything rash."

Harry sits up far to fast, so he flops back down, putting a hand to his forehead. "Ow. I mean, how?"

"The art of silently sneaking over to you and reading over your shoulder," he says, giving Harry a sad smile. "I don't really care, though. They're your best friends, and I _am_ a Slytherin."

"That's not what I meant by being rash."

He frowns. "You didn't mean you were going to maybe hurt me if I said anything wrong?"

Harry snorts, this time sitting up slower. "I don't think I could."

"You barely even know me."

"But I know you better than anybody else in your class, obviously."

Draco averts his eyes. "Yes, I suppose you're right. But not very well. There are always favorite colors and foods and hobbies to learn about."

Harry smiles. "And there's plenty of time for that later. Are you wondering where we are?"

Draco purses his lips. "What did you mean by rash in your letter?"

Harry stands up so he doesn't have to face the blond. "I don't really know, actually. Something about…something."

Draco stands up with a snort. "Profound of you, Potter."

Harry frowns. Potter? Why did he suddenly switch? "Now do you want to know where we are?"

"Oh, no, I know where we are." Draco puts his hands on his hips and spins around in a circle. "The Potter's Secret Garden, right?"

Harry nods. "How did you know?"

Draco points over Harry's shoulder.

Harry turns around to see a large, elaborate, plant-entwined sign in big letters:

_The Secret Gardens of  
>t<em>_he Potter family Estate_

"Well," Harry says, turning to face Draco again, "My family always was a bit on the blunt side."

"Yes, this I've learned."

Draco reaches over to his left sleeve, but Harry grabs his hand before he can.

"Come on," he says, smiling at the blond. His blond? No, not entirely. "While we're here, I'll show you around."

"But what will Ronald and Hermione do?" Draco asks as Harry pulls him off of the foliage and onto the stone pathway between it and the other plants around them.

"I have no idea," Harry says. "Do you have touch-bloom plants?"

"What-bloom plants?"

"Touch-bloom. They're flowers that will only open if you touch them, and once you've touched them they stay open for…I'd say about five minutes. We don't have very many, but the ones we do have make a picture."

Draco tilts his head. "A picture of what?"

"Oh, nothing too elaborate. Just a rainbow. You know, a curve of touch-bloom roses, cream-sickle orange petunias, dandelions, etcetera. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet."

"Are you taking me to them?"

"Of course. And there's another gazebo somewhere around here…we have touch-bloom lantern lights planted in the ceiling, and we've magicked them to stay on for about ten minutes instead of five. I'll show you those ones, too, since the regular touch-blooms are near the gazebo anyway."

As they walk, Harry remembers that he's still holding onto Draco's hand. He starts to let go, but Draco takes a larger step to be at his side again, and while Harry still lets go of him, the blond links his arm with the Gryffindor's.

"What's your favorite type of flower?" he asks, looking around the dense garden with a smile.

Harry looks to his right, where Draco isn't. "You'll laugh at me."

"I don't think I would."

"But it's so boring."

"It's a rose, isn't it?"

Harry looks up at Draco with a guilty look. "They're just so pretty. Even their thorns have a reddish-brown tint at their tips, you know?"

Draco looks down at him with a smile. "I understand. They're not my favorite, but I understand."

"Which are your favorite, then?"

"It's…not exactly a flower."

"Anything is better than a rose."

"You will not laugh at me?"

"I'll do my best."

Draco reaches over to his left sleeve, and Harry lets him this time. Sometimes you have to let somebody continue with their habit, or something inside of them will snap. Hermione's habit was chewing on the tips of her quills—even when they were dipped in ink. Ronald tried getting her to stop, but after a while she started chewing on other things, so both Ronald and Harry agreed that it was better to let her chew on just her quills instead of chewing on everything else. If Harry won't let Draco touch his sleeves at all, maybe he'll start touching something else. Harry's not sure what would be so horrible about touching something, but he's sure he could come up with a good reason if he had to.

"It's catnip."

Harry bursts into laughter for about a second before smacking his hand over his mouth to muffle it.

"Oh, come now!" Draco says, pulling away from Harry and throwing his arms up. "You didn't try even a little bit!"

Harry forces himself to stop laughing, and he can't deny the fact that it actually hurts a bit. "No, I'm done, see?"

When Draco looks over at Harry's smile again, Harry can't help but snort.

Draco groans and continues down the pathway with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.

"Oh, alright, alright, I'm sorry!" Harry says, chasing after him. "I just…catnip? Do you like cats or something?"

"Not entirely," Draco says, holding his hand out to Harry.

Harry's brain tells him to pretend he doesn't see it, but his hand reaches out and takes it anyway.

"I just like it," he says, pulling Harry over to him so that they can walk side-by-side again. "There's no real reason to it. At least you have a re—oooh."

Harry looks in front of them to see that they've come to the gazebo.

But it's not entirely gazebo looking anymore. It's still the building, but there seems to have been something draped over it. One of those nearly-transparent drapes that you hang over and/or around your bed. It's strung up so that there's a doorway into the gazebo, and the touch-bloom lantern plants are weaved through the fine fabric and crisscrossing across the roof.

"It's changed a bit," Harry says, smiling at it. "But the touch-blooms are still all around. See those? The ones that are unopened?"

Harry points at a plant a few feet from them, and Draco nods.

"It's like this."

Harry reaches his hands out and over the buds, just barely pressing his touch to the green. He sweeps his hand in an arch, and flowers of all seven colors burst forth from the flowers like the plume of a bird.

Draco smiles down at them, his eyes sparkling like silver orbs of water. He reaches out to the flowers and drags his hand in the opposite direction as Harry did, creating an X in the design.

"You have these at your own manor, I take it?"

Draco turns to Harry with a shy look and nods. "Ours make a design, too. The Hogwarts emblem."

Harry looks away with his lips pressed into a line. "Naturally. And here I thought I was impressing you."

"Oh, no, this is much better. I would much rather have a rainbow. I'm sick of being so…defined."

Harry cocks an eyebrow. "Whatever do you mean by that?"

"Defined by my House. Obviously I'm not much of a Slytherin when it comes to…well, most everything. So I'm sick of people just assuming that I'm exactly like I am in public. I can't do anything about it, but it's just a thought."

"No, it's a good thought," Harry says, kicking at the pathway as he slowly makes his way to the gazebo. "I'm perfectly fine with being a Gryffindor, because it's how I take everything. Honestly, though, I think my second House is Slytherin." Harry doesn't want to say anything about the Sorting Hat wanting to put him in Slytherin because of his knack for spells with fire. Does that even make sense? Putting someone in a House just because they like fire? No. No, it doesn't. Besides, Seamus is in Gryffindor, and he's even better with fire than Harry.

"I don't know what mine is," Draco says, following him into the wooden structure. "I'm not Gryffindor, because I'm far from brave, and even farther from noble. I'm not Hufflepuff because…ugh. I supposed I could be Ravenclaw…I am the second highest in our year after Granger, after all."

Harry grins at him before using his wand to give all of the lantern plants in and on the gazebo the sensation of being touched. They open like flumes of water, lighting up the gazebo like a sun.

"I think you second House is Hufflepuff," he says, still grinning at the blond.

Draco's jaw drops. "You've said that twice, now! I'm nothing like a Hufflepuff! They're far too…too…Hufflepuff!"

"But they're cute, like kittens and bunnies!" Harry says, remember Cedric. The boy had nearly been a man when he was killed, but he was cute. Harry had caught him playing with rubber ducks in the prefect's bathroom, cooking cakes with the house elves in the kitchen, and using the Quidditch brooms to sweep up the changing room with some birds conjured with an _avis_ charm like the muggle movies of Snow White and Cinderella.

Draco looks at Harry with the sort of look that Harry can't tell what it means. It's either appalled, incredulous, or downright offended. "Are you comparing me to a baby _cat_ and a _rabbit_?"

"Um…" Harry averts his eyes. "No?"

He smiles. "I suppose I do like catnip," he says, turning away from Harry to lean against a large wooden pole built to keep the roof of the gazebo standing. "And my favorite vegetable _is_ a carrot…"

Harry chuckles. "See? It is Hufflepuff. You're a Slytherpuff."

Draco turns to him. "And Gryfferin just doesn't have the same sort of ring to it. None of them sound good with Slytherin as their second House, I don't think."

"Ravener is the worst."

"I concur."

"Um, Draco?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"It's time for all of the guests to be heading off, now. We should…go find my parents."

Draco instantly starts chewing on his bottom lip and playing with his sleeve, and this time Harry reaches out and takes his hands to still him. He doesn't still his lips, because he isn't entirely sure how he would do that anyway.

"Are you sure I have to do this?" Draco asks quietly.

"I'm sure you _need_ to," Harry replies.

"Harry, when you…um…when you told me that you would tell everyone if I didn't just stay here…"

Harry gives him a half happy-half sad smile. "I wouldn't have dared tell a soul. I promised, didn't I?"

Draco looks down. Farther down, so he's not looking down at Harry, but just down at the floor between them. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Hold on tight, now. I don't have a clue what's waiting for us when we enter the public."

**XxX**

Harry apparates right inside of the front door. The main hall is all but empty, save for a few members of the Weasley family, all three Granger's, Draco's parents, and Harry's parents.

All wondering where the two boys are, no doubt.

Narcissa sees them. "_Draco_!" she yells, turning to them. "Where have you _been_?"

"Harry!" all of the remaining Weasley's and Granger's exclaim.

Harry's parents stay silent, and Lucius begins to make his way over to them.

"_There_ you are, you stu—silly boy," he growls, his wand tight in his hand. "To think that I raised such a child as you who would defy me by running off and—"

James is suddenly in front of Harry, standing between the two boys and the graduate Slytherin. "That is enough, Lucius," he says.

"Enough?" Lucius snaps calmly. It's a feat, but he manages. "He is my son, and I will decide what _enough_ is."

"Not in my home, you will not. If you wish to punish your son, you will do it in the confines of your _own_ manor. Mine, on the other hand, is severely _off limits_."

Lucius lowers his wand. Still staring steadily at James, he says, "Draco, it is time for us to be heading home. I will meet you and your mother _in the confines of our own manor_ shortly."

Draco grips tighter to Harry. "But, father, I—"

"Do not talk back to your father, son."

Draco hangs his head, and Harry glowers at the white-haired man. "He's not going."

Draco's head snaps up. "Harry, no, I have to g—"

"_Not_. _Going_?" Lucius asks in a furiously calm manner. Harry hates to admit that it really is quite terrifying.

"I know how you treat him back at home," Harry says at a volume level just loud enough to be heard by Lucius, James, and Draco himself. "You're not supposed to do that. He's your _son_."

As Lucius' eyes narrow and James' are confused as they turn to Harry, Draco whimpers. "Harry, quiet, or you'll—"

Harry points at the cluster of Weasley's and Granger's. "You guys need to go," he says simply. "Please. I'll explain everything later. Just…please."

He can tell that the Weasley's and Hermione are going to protest, but his mother nods her head and turns to them herself. "Weasley's, hold on tight," she says, holding her arms out to the four that are still here. She apparates them outside of the property first, so they can then apparate to their own manor. When she comes back, she takes the Granger's straight into their home because they still live in muggle-London.

"Harry," she says, appearing beside him when all of their guests are gone. "What is the meaning of this?"

Harry turns to Draco. "I'm going to mess up if I say it," he whispers. "Does it matter who—Draco?"

Draco's staring blankly forward, his eyes locked straight ahead. Harry follows his eyes to see what he's looking at, but he's not looking at anything important.

"Draco?" Harry says again, waving his gloved hand in front of the blonds' eyes.

In reply, Draco reaches up and grips his head so tightly that his nails are digging into his skin and drawing blood. He drops to his knees, gasping and choking on the air.

"Dammit!" Harry says, dropping to his knees beside him.

"Harry!" James yells. "What is the meaning of this?"

Lily automatically drops to Draco's side as well, lying him down and rolling him onto his back so they can see his face. He's turning blue because he can't breath.

Draco's parents are just _standing_ there.

"Lucius!" Harry yells, standing up. He doesn't care about formalities anymore. Anyone who can do something so terrible to their own son does not deserve a title. "Let him go! He is your _son_!"

"I would be happy to let him go," Lucius says calmly, "but it is not I who is causing him this…pain."

Harry turns to Narcissa. She's looking down at the floor, wringing her hands. She's not even holding her wand, so it can't be her. And it couldn't be Dobby, because house elves can't hurt their masters no matter who tells them to do it.

So Lucius must be lying.

Faster than Harry has ever done in his entire life, he whips out his wand and points it at Lucius as he yells, "_STUPEFY_!" The white-haired man flies across the room, sliding across the stone floor.

There's a huge gasp behind them, and the blue in Draco's face begins to go down.

Harry drops to his side again, letting Draco take his hands and cry into them. "It's okay," Harry says quietly, pulling the blond into his arms. "He's let you go, now. It's alright."

Lily stands up so fast that Harry would have fallen back down if it were him. "_Narcissa_!" she bellows.

Draco's mother looks up, and there are tears streaming down her eyes.

"What is the _meaning_ of this?" Lily booms.

Narcissa opens her mouth and closes it again and again, trying to figure out what to say.

Before she can, though, Lucius stands. "There will be _hell_ to pay for your actions between me and my _son_, Harry_ Potter_!" he yells across the room, pointing his wand at Harry.

Harry doesn't even get to give him a look before his father steps in front of him, his own wand drawn. "Not in _my_ manor, Lucius."

"Fine. But Draco is _my_ son, James," Lucius spits, walking towards them. "And I will do with him _what_ I wish, _where_ I wish."

Harry knows that a fight is going to break out. Draco is still crying in his arms, but he's breathing, so it's okay.

Lucius suddenly stops walking in midstride. As soon as he's registered that he can't move on his own free will, though, his eyes snaps over to his wife. "Narcissa!"

Harry looks over at her too. Her wand is pointing straight at her husband, and there are tears streaming down her face. "No," she says. Even though her entire body is shaking, her voice is twice as calm as Lucius' ever was. "No, I will not let you go. I will not let you embarrass this family. We are in the presence of friends, and you are to act accordingly. You may come out, now, Molly."

The entire room gasps as the mother of the Weasley family pulls off the Invisibility Cloak that belongs to Harry's father.

"Thank you, Narcissa," she says, folding the cloak in her hands. "And thank you, Lily, for lending this to me so I could come back."

Harry stares up at his mother, who gives him a glance before looking back at Molly. "Of course, Molly darling."

Molly advanced to Lucius, still in midstride. "In accordance to the seventeenth law of the third book of laws of the Ministries Head of Family Affairs, you, Lucius Malfoy, are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, and you will be dealt with in full by noon tomorrow."

As soon as she touches him, he goes rigid as a board.

"Narcissa," she says, turning to her. "I suggest you do not stay in your own manor tonight."

Narcissa nods, and they're gone.

"I thought only Potter's could apparate in and out of our estate," Harry says, looking up at his father. Draco is not longer crying, but he's still holding himself tightly to Harry.

"I took the wards down just long enough for her to get out," James says, not looking down at his son. He walks towards Narcissa, who's beginning to cry somewhat harder now. She lets him hold her and cry into his shoulder, and Harry knows that he's going to ask her if she wants to stay here for the night.

"Harry, love," Lily says, kneeling down beside Harry and Draco.

"I'm so sorry, mother," Harry says quietly, absentmindedly twirling a couple of his fingers in Draco's hair. "I didn't mean for it to go so far. I just…I didn't want Draco to go home to that."

"You did the right thing, dear," she says, giving Harry a sad smile. "They'll be staying here for the night, of course. I'll send Mariah and her troop to prepare some rooms for them, shall I?"

"That'd be splendid, mother. Thank you."

She gives Harry a real smile before disapparating right there.

"Harry," Draco whispers.

"I'm right here," Harry says, looking down at the blond. His blond? Draco might be his by now. He's not sure.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry? What on earth could you possibly be sorry for? I'm the one who broke your promise. My parents found out. Even Molly found out!"

"No, you didn't break it. You wouldn't have told if I wasn't being suffocated. You…you saved my life, Harry."

"Not exactly," Harry says. "He wouldn't have killed you."

Draco shrugs. "I never know."

Harry sighs. "Come on. I'm sure your mother wants to see you, too."

**XxX**

"This will be your room, then," Harry says, leading Draco into one of their finest guest rooms. "It's the second nicest, after the one your mother is in. She's just down the hall if you want to go to her in the night. And, speaking of going to people in the night…" Harry walks over to the giant white wardrobe at the other end of the room, flinging the doors open. "Just like the one wardrobe in Borgin and Burkes and the other in one of the Rooms of Requirement that used to work in the sense that you could travel from one to the other, this one is linked to the one in my own room. That's why my wardrobe is always locked unless I'm getting something out of it. Anyway, I'll unlock it tonight in case you need me for something. All you have to do is get inside and close the door."

Draco nods. "I'll keep that in mind. And, um, is there a…well, I was thinking about bathing myself tonight."

"Oh, of course." Harry snaps his fingers and a house elf appears in front of them.

"You rang, master Harry?" Tika asks, giving Harry a brilliant smile.

"Yes, I'd like you to prepare a bath for Draco."

"Of course, master Harry!" She disappears.

"I'll see you in the morning, then?" Harry says, turning to Draco.

Draco is chewing on his bottom lip and playing with his left sleeve again. Before Harry can stop him, he flings himself forward and wraps his arms around Harry.

"Thank you so much, Harry," he says. He's not crying, but he's close, so Harry wraps his arms back around him. "I don't know what I would have done about my hell reserves. I would have been out for sure. Thank you thank you thank you."

"Don't hurt yourself, Draco," Harry says with a light chuckle. "You're welcome."

The blond steps away, the faintest of smiles on his face. "I'll see you in the morning."

Harry nods before apparating into his bedroom and summoning an elf to start his own bath. He might as well. It's too early to go to bed, but too late to start any sort of project. The water of the tub is warm, but he uses his wand to make it hot.

"Do not be turning master Harry into soup, now!" Otto says, grinning happily at Harry. Why are all of the house elves so happy all of the sudden? Is it just because they have more people to take care of? Honestly, Harry wouldn't enjoy it whatsoever.

"I'll make sure I don't," Harry says, smiling at the elf just before it disapparates with a _crack_.

Harry settles deeper into the bathwater, closing his eyes and letting himself relax for a couple of seconds in the warmth.

_I wonder what Draco is doing_, he thinks, summoning a bar of soap to wash his body. _Still in the bath, I suppose._

Harry sighs. What is he going to do about the blond? His blond? Yes, he's his now. It's a nice feeling, having someone. Maybe he could—"Ugh." He spreads his legs slightly. "Bothersome blood flow." He dunks his soap covered face underneath the water, blowing bubbles out of his nose.

_I'm such a child_, he thinks, laughing as he leans up out of the water.

He purses his lips as he summons his bottle of shampoo. Draco is, honestly, even more like a child than Harry is, really. Always chewing on his bottom lip, playing with his left sleeve, crying shamelessly, and holding on to Harry like a lifeline. Most people don't touch each other unless they're in a relationship such as the one that Ronald and Hermione are in, or with Harry and his parents, or even just shaking someone's hand in greeting.

Then again, most people don't instantly trust somebody just because they stumbled upon them in a kitchen. Nor do they shove themselves into a broom cupboard with the person who stumbled upon them. Or most anything else that's happened between the two boys.

Harry sighs, pouring an _aguamenti_ charm over his head to wash the soap away. He still doesn't know what he's going to do about the Slytherin.

Harry laughs. Slytherin. He's hardly a member of Salazar's House. But, Harry has to admit, he's more that than Helga's House. He may be terrified of his father and easily compared to kittens and bunnies, but he's mean when he needs to be. Besides, Harry's a Gryffindor, but even if he had Lucius for a father he'd live in constant fear as well, no matter how brave he is.

With another sigh, Harry summons a towel. It waits for him in midair as he steps out and then dries him off before tying itself around his waist. A house elf appears to do away with Harry's bath as he goes through his drawers for his pajamas and a bathrobe.

As Harry throws open his balcony doors, there's a knock on his real door.

"Come in!" Harry says, turning to face it.

The door opens to reveal both of Harry's parents.

"Oh," Harry says, turning away. "Hello." He walks out onto the balcony before they can say anything, leaning against the railing in the same way that he had been doing before all of this. Before the simple hormones of hunger seduced his stomach, he was only waiting for Ronald and Hermione. But then he was pushed into a cupboard with a Slytherin with platinum blond hair that has a knack for making Harry want to hold his hand.

"Harry, darling." Lily stands on Harry's right, her hands resting on Harry's shoulders.

James stands on his left, also leaning against the banister. "Evening, son," he says, giving Harry a smile. "Had a good birthday, then, did you?"

Harry breathes out a laugh. "Best yet, I'd say."

His parents let out a chuckle as well.

"What happened, then?" James asks. "How on earth could you have gotten mixed up with _Draco_ sodding _Malfoy_?"

Harry sighs. He's been sighing far too much, lately. Of course they would get straight to the point. Beating around the bush just takes up so much time. And he supposes he should get straight to the point as well. Or, better yet, not lie about anything. What's the point?

"I was right where I'm standing now, waiting for Ronald and Hermione," Harry says, looking straight ahead and into the night. "I got hungry, but I didn't want to really talk to anybody without the other two, so I made my way down to the kitchen to grab something from Jonathan. I ran into Mariah with the laundry, and then I went into the kitchen, and there was Draco, his hands covered in flour and buried in bread dough. He was helping Jonathan make _bread_! So I said his name to make sure it was him so I didn't embarrass myself, and he yelps like a girl before pushing me into the nearest broom cupboard. It was cramped, I must say, but he told me that I had to promise not to tell anybody that I saw him in there because there would be hell to pay if his father found out. He doesn't have very much hell left, apparently, so I promised that I wouldn't. Then he released me from the cupboard, made sure we looked presentable—like we hadn't just been hiding with the brooms—and then disappeared out of the kitchen to who knows where."

James grins. "Then, when we introduced you to him, that wasn't the first time that you truly met?"

Harry shakes his head with another breathed laugh. "No. That was the second time. Then you sent him off with me so he could meet Ronald and Hermione."

Lily gives Harry a warm smile. "That would explain why you two seemed so comfortable with each other when you were walking away."

Harry frowns. "It showed, then?"

James chuckles. "Oh yes, it showed all right."

Harry sighs, leaning down more so that his arms are on the banister and his head is in his arms. "Obviously I'm not the best keeper of promises, then."

"Oh, no, you did fine," Lily says.

"Except for the fact that I just told you nearly everything."

"Nearly?" James asks.

"Oh, there wasn't much else," Harry says quietly, standing up straight again.

Lily pats him lightly on the cheek. "Liar."

"Oh, alright, alright, I'm sorry. There was a _lot_ more. Do I have to tell you?"

"I think you should," James says.

Harry turns around so that his back is against the railing instead. "For the feast, I was going to invite Draco to my table instead of Neville—but don't tell Neville I said that. In any case, we were making faces at each other the entire time, but when it was over, I caught of glimpse of Draco disappearing inside of the manor by himself. I left Hermione in the middle of a word to go and find him, and when I did find him, he was crying in the kitchen with Jonathan. Apparently his father found out about his being in the kitchen, so he was angry with him. Draco told me that as soon as he got home he would be in trouble, and he let slip something about…um…" Harry presses his lips into a hard line. "Torture."

Both of Harry's parents gasp, but Harry presses on:

"So I told him that I wouldn't let him go home tonight because it's not okay that a father allows his own son to be tortured. So I told him that I would ask you two if he could stay here for a little while. He didn't want me to at first, but…well, anyway, he agreed after a time. Then we went to my room so he could fix himself up so it didn't _look_ like he had been crying, and he wanted to try out some of my perfumes anyway. While we were up here, I…" Harry purses his lips. Should he mention the letter? No, that's not important. "Ronald and Hermione came into my room, and the four of us got into a bit of a tizzy."

Lily nods. "Yes, we heard about that. That's why their families stayed behind when nobody could find either of you."

"Yes, well, nobody could find us because we were in the secret garden. It was the first place I thought of that wouldn't be teeming with human life. I showed him the touch-bloom flowers and the gazebo, and that's when I apparated us back to the front door. And…well, here we all are now."

His parents nod, glancing over at each other.

"That's quite the adventure, son," James says, pushing his fingers through Harry's wet hair. "There's some leftover cake in the kitchen, if you get hungry again."

Harry blinks up at him. "You're…you're not mad at me?"

"What on earth is there to be mad about? You saved a young mans life tonight, Harry. If anything, that deserves a celebration. Good thing we already had one, yeah?" With one last bright smile, James walks towards Harry's bedroom, disapparating in midstride.

Harry turns to Lily. "But what about when I attacked Lucius? Aren't I in trouble for that?"

"Harry, Lucius doesn't deserve any sort of elderly recognition when it comes to something like choking his own son," Lily says, taking Harry's hands in hers. "If I had had the same knowledge that you did about the Malfoy's home life at the time that Draco's lungs were blocked off, I would have used the Cruciatus Curse on the man."

Harry's eyes widen. "But…but the Unforgivable's are illegal! You couldn't possibly care about Draco that much to use one of them."

Lily gives Harry a sad smile. "It's not so much I care about the boy, Harry. It's that I am a mother, and any sort of thought about a child being sad breaks my heart. Now, add to it that that child is sad because of their parents…" She shakes her head. "That does not sit well with me, no."

Harry nods. "I understand."

"But you care about the boy?"

Harry looks out over the yard again. "What was your first clue? Letting him get between me and my two best friends or casting a spell on a man of higher authority than me?"

"Stupefying Lucius, I believe," she says with a smile. "And all of the times you let him touch you, and running after him after the feast, and—oh, don't give me that look, of course I noticed all of it. I'm your mother, after all. Though I must admit, Draco does not strike me as the type of person you would be…drawn to."

Harry smiles. "He's different when he's not around people."

"Except you."

"Only because I stumbled upon him in the kitchen."

She smiles. "Of course it's only that. And what's he like, then? This Draco that only you know?"

Harry looks out into the darkness again, unsuccessfully hiding a grin. "He's like a kitten, or a bunny, or…he's like a Hufflepuff! He smiles like a child and giggles like a fourth year girl and he has all of these little quirks he thinks that he hides in public but most definitely does _not_."

"Such as?"

"Oh, only a couple of little things. He chews on his bottom lip a lot, and his left cufflinks are always coming undone because he plays with his sleeve so much. And there are some other things here and there, but I can't exactly name them. I've only known him for a day, after all."

"And you've already told us that you've never talked to him at school before. What else do you know about him?"

Harry shrugs. "He really likes the perfume I wear—you know, the one that you gave me as a present—and he's fascinated with how the water parts at the lake so that you can walk out to the gazebo there."

"Do you know his favorite color?"

"No, but I know it's nothing that has to do with green. He's sick of his House."

Lily nods. "And what does he like to do?"

"Well, other than sneak into the kitchen to make bread, and maybe ride horses, I have no idea. He seems to like flowers a lot, and he strikes me as the type of person who really likes animals for some reason. Oh, and his favorite vegetable is a carrot, and his favorite plant is catnip. That's about it that I can piece together."

"Hmm…" Lily taps her chin. "When he comes up tonight, take him for a walk on the grounds—or even a ride on the broomsticks. I'm sure he'd be fascinated to see the layout of the estate."

Harry blinks at her. "When he comes up tonight? How do you—"

"Oh, Harry, honestly. Just because he's not my son doesn't mean I can't read him at all. You are his closest friend now, if it is true that you are the only one he trusts to tell all of these things. He won't want to stay in his room tonight." She turns to begin walking away, but stops. "Oh, but I must give you a word of advice, dear. He'll be here for a few more nights at least, so don't get rash and try to force anything." She winks before turning away again and disapparating.

Harry stares with a dropped jaw at the place that his mother just disappeared from. Is she…could she _possibly_ be…?

"My own mother is telling me to wait for the right moment to couple with a man I met less than a day ago," Harry says out loud, walking back into his bedroom in a daze. "As if I could possibly—ugh." He flops onto his bed with his legs spread out. "Being a male is so troublesome."

Harry sighs. Maybe Albus and Grindelwald could pull it off, and it seemed that Snape and Remus were getting there…but Harry can't do that. He fancies Ginevra, if anyone. Maybe not as much as everybody assumes he does, but enough that his mother shouldn't be suggesting that he…he…

He gasps, sitting up. Merlin, of all the nights for his manhood to act up, it's tonight. Hopefully Draco doesn't come in until Harry's asleep so it goes back—

There's a knock, but it's not coming from Harry's door. It's coming from the inside of Harry's wardrobe.

Naturally.

"Come out, Draco," Harry says, quick diving underneath his blankets and dropping his head to his pillow.

The closet opens, and Draco walks out in fuzzy blue slippers and a matching bathrobe.

"Finally coming out of the closet, eh?" Harry says, pushing himself up on an elbow with a grin.

Draco blushes and looks down as he closes the door. "I, uh, couldn't sleep."

Harry sighs, sitting up completely with the blankets still over his lap. "Come on over here, then. I wasn't planning on sleeping anytime soon anyway."

Draco crosses the room swiftly, his slippers dropping off of his feet as he crawls onto the bed. Harry opens his mouth when Draco gets to the spot he assumed his blond would stop, but he cuts himself off when Draco keeps crawling and snuggles right up in Harry's lap.

"Um…" Harry says, looking down at him. "I, uh…"

"Do you like toffee?"

"I…yes."

"I brought some, if you'd like any."

"Oh, I, sure, I'll have some."

Draco reaches into his pocket before pulling out three small pieces of toffee wrapped individually. "You can have two," Draco says, taking one of Harry's hands and putting the sweets into them. "I don't feel very good if I have more than one."

Harry can't help but laugh.

"What's so funny?" Draco asks, unwrapping the toffee and popping it into his mouth.

"You are," Harry says, unwrapping one of his own. "You say you're offended at the thought of being compared to a kitten, but here you in my lap curled up like one."

He sits up, falling onto the bed and out of Harry's lap. "I am not a kit—"

"Oh, shush," Harry says, rolling his eyes heavenward. "You are and you know it."

He crosses his arms, giving Harry a frown you might see on a first year. "How?"

"Just like this, of course. Cuddly and purring one second, but the instant that you're threatened emotionally you get all hissy."

"Can't I just be an adult cat, then? Kittens are so small and—"

"Fragile? Precisely. Come on, now," he says, crawling out from underneath the bathrobe and stepping onto the floor.

"Come?" Draco says, crawling to the edge of the bed. "Come where?"

"Well, we're not going to sleep anytime soon, so we're going out," Harry says, slipping on his broomstick riding boots. "And don't make fun of how I look, because you're about to look the same." Harry grabs his extra pair and holds them out to his blond.

Draco takes them before sitting back down to put them on, and Harry's glad to see that they fit perfectly. Funny, since Draco is so much taller than him.

"Going out where?" Draco asks, standing up. "And am I allowed to laugh at how you look if I'm laughing at myself as well?"

"No, just keep your laughter to yourself. And just outside. I know you're a wonderful broomstick rider after all those years of playing Seeker against you and your team."

Draco bites on his bottom lip. "I'm not as good as you'd think," he whispers. "Most of the time my father was just there, and that made me…better."

"You can ride with me, then. We have double-riding brooms somewhere around here…"

Draco reaches over to play with the left sleeve of his bathrobe. "Harry, I'm not as good at being blunt as you are, so forgive me if I sound like an idiot. What I'm trying to say is I'd rather just ride with you on a single rider so I know I won't get myself killed."

Harry reaches over and separates Draco's hands with a smile. "No, your level of bluntness was perfect. Come on and we'll get my best broom."

Draco gives Harry a shy smile. "Oh goody."

"See, that's why you can't be an adult cat," Harry says, linking his arm with Draco's.

Draco frowns. "I don't see why not."

"Because you're not an adult yet!"

Harry apparates before Draco can say anything, effectively ending the conversation.

**XxX**

"I am never sharing a broom with you again," Draco says, wiping away his tears of laughter with the sleeve of his bathrobe.

"Oh, you're mad at _me_?" Harry says, closing the balcony doors after them. His broom is still out on the balcony. "_You're_ the one who failed to mention you're scared of heights."

"You should have known better!" Draco says, kicking off the shoes that Harry lent him and setting them down with the rest of Harry's shoes. "I'm as far from having the qualities of a Gryffindor as you can get!"

"I suppose I can't argue with that," Harry laughs, kicking off his shoes before flopping backwards onto the bed.

Draco flops beside him, curling up to his side in a similar kitten-like fashion as he had done before. "Next time I'll wear a blindfold. That way you can show me the wild touch-blooms in peace."

"How will you be able to see them bloom, then?"

"I'm sure we'll think of something."

They lay there in silence, then. Draco is no doubt thinking of the abstract design that the wild touch-blooms had fashioned themselves into, but Harry is thinking about their flying adventure in general. It wasn't until after Harry had used all of his greatest flying moves that Draco told him that he had incredible motion sickness and that heights made him puke, so it's a good thing that Harry is good at diving and landing or he would have been covered in whatever Draco had eaten at the feast.

After Harry and Draco had combined their magic to clean Draco's mouth out once he felt fine again, they had just walked across the grounds instead of flown. It was a bit more of a hassle to show Draco's the wild touch-blooms, since the wild ones like to grow in higher altitudes than the ones in the Potter secret garden.

Then Harry introduced him to some of the animals around the property, and Harry summoned some of his gillyweed reserve for a swim in the lake. They shed their bathrobes for the swim, swimming in nothing but their underwear. Draco has the body of a true Quidditch Seeker, a tight stomach and strong legs and all that that implies. Harry had to adjust himself more than once on their swim, but he couldn't quite figure out why.

Harry's only been swimming in the lake a couple of times, and he had apparently completely forgotten about everything inside of it. There is indeed a pod of merfolk underneath the surface, and hardly anything is actually miniature. The lake is only about the width and length of Harry's manor, but it goes about four times as deep and spreads out underneath the land. It's like thousands of little caves underneath Harry's yard that he completely forgot about.

Harry turned the underwater lights on for their swim, and after they managed to not get eaten by any of the sharks and giant eels and whatnot, they swum around with the merfolk and played with some magically deformed dolphins. Unlike any muggle species of dolphin, they're all completely black, have bright yellow eyes, fangs like a snake, and can speak in any language that they see fit. They're really quite terrifying if it weren't for the fact that they have the laugh of a hyena and the sense of humor of a third year boy: immature and overboard.

After swimming they used drying charms on themselves, and Harry can't remember the last time he had so much fun playing games he hasn't played since…well, has he ever played the games? Tag and hide-and-seek and all of those things. Of course, with only two people it was a bit of a hassle, but after Harry summoned a few house elves it was much more fun.

"Should I go back to my room to sleep, now?" Draco asks, breaking the silence.

"No, you should stay here," Harry says, smiling over at him. "It's no fun by myself."

"We're not going to go to sleep now?"

"Oh, no, I was going to. I meant you could just sleep in here."

Draco blushes before ducking his head into Harry's side again. "Sounds good," he says, his voice slightly muffled.

"Come on, then," Harry says, sitting up. "In you go."

The two boys shed their bathrobes before crawling into the bed, both on opposite sides of the mattress, with Harry by the wall.

"Sleep tight, Draco," Harry says, burying himself underneath the blankets. He gets relatively cold during the night, so he's used to curling into a ball to stay warm.

"Harry, before you go to sleep…" Draco says.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Don't make me hit you."

Harry chuckles. "Oh, alright, alright, I'm sorry. You're welcome for everything."

"Goodnight, Harry. Sleep well."

**XxX**

When Harry wakes up, it's still the middle of the night, and he's a lot hotter than he's used to being. Then again, he's pretty sure he sleeps alone, and if that's not an arm draped over his side then he's not sure how exactly he should panic.

He rolls over slowly, and when he comes face-to-face with Draco Malfoy, everything about the previous day floods back into his memory.

Except, he remembers falling asleep as far from Draco as the bed would allow. How had Draco ended up over here?

Harry sits up far too fast, and not according to his plan, startles Draco awake beside him.

"Harry?" his blond says, sitting up as well. "What is it? Is my father back? What's wrong?"

Harry just stares at him. His gray eyes are wide, and while they're usually a lighter gray, they're dark. His fine hair is sticking up in all directions like the soft down of a duckling. His face has a pinkish tinge to it, most likely from the heat of sleep.

Draco stares back at him, blinking, like he has no idea what's going on. He reaches up and moves some of his hair out of his face, pushing some of it behind his ear.

Harry reaches out and grabs the hand, staring directly into Draco's eyes.

"Was I talking in my sleep?" Draco asks, looking at Harry's hand before looking back into Harry's eyes. "I tend to do that a lot. All you have to do to shut me up is—"

Harry leans forward and silences him with a kiss. Draco goes rigid as a board for all of one second before the fingers on the hand that Harry is holding on to twine with his. Harry pulls away just enough that they're lips aren't touching anymore, and when he opens his eyes, Draco's are already opened.

"Actually," Draco breathes, his face bright red, "I was going to say that you just have to turn me onto my side, but I suppose you can do it that way, too."

"And that's the reason that you're a Slytherin," Harry says, taking Draco's other hand in his. "You always know exactly what to say."

"But the Gryffindor's are the ones that always know exactly what to _do_," his blond whispers, the blush in his face going down.

Harry leans forward again, dropping both of his hands from Draco's and resting them on his blond's waist. Draco kisses him back now, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck and pulling himself closer. He ends up on Harry's lap with his legs straddling the Gryffindor's waist, grinding himself downwards.

Harry can physically hear the click that goes off in his brain. Of course his cock has been acting up lately. He's been around Draco. How could he not have put two-and-two together until now?

_Because you thought you had a crush on Ginevra, halfwit_, a little voice says inside of him.

_Thought I did_, Harry thinks back.

_Nice of you to have figured out that it—_

Any thoughts inside of Harry cut themselves off except for the ones that are directly connected to the hands that are roaming Harry's chest and stomach.

Harry's hands hold Draco tightly to him as he grinds himself up and into him. He lightly pushes open Draco's mouth, even slower sliding his tongue inside. Draco welcomes him warmly, releasing a soft moan as Harry skates his tongue across the blonds. His hands still trace Harry's chest, stopping now and then to rub the tips of his fingers over the nipples until they're straining against the skin.

Harry pulls his mouth away from Draco's and trails hot kisses down his chin and down his neck, burying his face in the crook of his shoulder, lashing his tongue and teeth out at the skin that's now red from blush and heat instead of its usual pale.

"Draco," Harry whispers, biting softly into Draco's skin. The blond moans against Harry, his hands no longer roaming but just holding themselves against Harry's chest. "Draco, I—"

"Just _fuck_ me, Harry," Draco moans, nails digging into Harry's skin.

Harry grins against Draco's throat. "You're so vulgar when you want something," he says, pulling away to look into the gray eyes. They're even darker than they were before.

"And I'll get worse if you don't give it to me," Draco growls, leaning forward to bite at Harry's lower lip.

"You sure do have a thing for bottom lips," Harry says. Before Draco can say anything back, he pushes him back down onto the bed and crawls over him so that his knees are on either side of his waist and his hands are on either side of his head. "Lift your hips." Draco does without question, and Harry hooks his fingers into Draco's underwear and drags them off of him in one swift movement.

Gods, what a sight.

Draco simply grins at him as he reaches up and pushes Harry's own underwear down his own body, tossing it to land on the floor in the pile of bathrobes. His confident eyes bore into Harry's as his hands grip onto his hips, his fingers digging hard into the skin as he pulls the Gryffindor down to meet him. Each of them release a mix of gasps and moans at the connection, but then Harry gains enough coherency to lean down and kiss his blond again.

"You're sure about this?" Harry asks, his voice husky around Draco's lips.

"Yes," Draco says, a hand reaching up to tangle itself into the hair on the back of Harry's head, pulling him back down to kiss him again. "I am extremely sure about this."

Harry's hands snake down and take hold of Draco's cock, hot in his hand. His blond sputters a bit before regaining control of the kiss. Harry rubs his palm up and now, and his blond's hands drop away from Harry's body and to the bed, tangling into the sheets. Harry swirls his thumb against the head of the Slytherin's cock, smearing precum in all directions. Draco's eyelids droop shut, and his kissing goes to zero. So Harry pulls his mouth away from his and watches his teeth move to bite his bottom lip to keep from moaning.

"Don't hold back on me, now," Harry whispers, staring at Draco's eyelids. "I didn't kiss you to watch your silence."

Draco's teeth let go of his lip and he lets out a long, hard moan.

Smiling, Harry releases his hand—causing Draco to release an unhappy whimper—and crawls backwards down his blond, stopping when he's between his legs. He leans down and takes the blond whole in his mouth without warning, swirling his tongue around the head and through the slit that's secreting hot precum into his mouth.

"Harry!" Draco moans. "Not in your mouth, Harry. Fuck me, _please_ fuck me!"

Grabbing his wand from the bedside table, Harry uses a lubricant spell to coat his fingers in the cold liquid. He reaches down to Draco's arse, hovering just millimeters from the entrance before swirling his fingers just outside.

Draco sucks in a breath, his legs spreading and his arse tilting up. Harry's perfectly fine with just watching Draco's face as his fingers trace the outside lining, but after he receives a few throaty growls, he pushes a finger completely inside. Draco lets out a gasp—whether from pain or pleasure, Harry doesn't know, though in all honesty it sounds like both—and his eyelids fluttering open for all but a second.

When he's stretched his blond completely with three fingers, he pulls them out and squirts more lube in his hand so that he can lather his own cock to slide instead. When he looks up at Draco, he's surprised to see him just staring at Harry's face with a dumb smile on his face, like Harry is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in the entire world.

"Ready?" he asks in all but a whisper. He's not sure if he'll be able to just stop everything if Draco says no, but he has to ask.

But Draco nods, so Harry lifts the blond's legs up to rest on his shoulders, tilting his arse up. And just like that, he's pushing inside. Slow at first, but the more pleasured moans that Draco lets out, the faster and harder Harry pumps.

It's the most beautiful thing in the world, to Harry. Draco is opening beneath him, and Harry knows that he's never been this open to anyone before. It makes Harry feel powerful, but most of all it makes him feel loved, and like he's loving Draco just right, and like he's saving his life again. And it's just so hot and so tight and so _hot_ and Harry just can't get enough of it and he never wants to do anything else again for the rest of his life and—

Draco releases a pleasured gasps, and Harry knows what he's found. He angles himself more so that he hits it every time that he pumps inside of his blond, and Draco rewards the Gryffindor by going completely incoherent as he pulls the sheets around them into tight fists, and by closing his eyes and tilting his neck up in completely ecstasy, and by moaning Harry's name over and over and over again until his own name is the only word he'll ever know again.

Harry leans down and presses his mouth to Draco's neck, biting and sucking and kissing all over everywhere that his mouth can reach.

And then Draco is there, screaming Harry's name, dragging out the R's in a moaning, husky, incoherent growl. One look away from Draco's face and down to his pulsing cock pushes Harry over the edge as well, and he moans disjointedly as he pumps one last, hard time into him, empty himself inside of Draco.

He finishes before Harry, but as soon as Harry is done he collapses on top of him, burying in face into his neck.

They lie there in silence for what seems like forever, smiling at each other with dazed looks. Harry can't think straight for what seems like forever, but when he can, he slowly pulls himself out of Draco before resting slightly on top of Draco's chest.

"Is it different, now?" Draco asks quietly, his hand doodling absentmindedly on Harry's chest.

"Is what different now?" Harry asks, looking up at him.

"Us. Are we different?"

"Well, of course. How would we manage to keep it the same?"

"I don't mean the…the courting part of us. I mean how we interact with each other."

"You've lost me."

Draco sighs. "I mean, it's not going to be awkward now, is it? We're not going to keep us a secret, are we?"

Harry gives his blond a smile. "If it wasn't awkward during—which it wasn't—then it's not going to be awkward after. And I haven't really thought about...about now. I don't really want to go back to having everybody think I like Ginevra. I like you, and I'm not afraid to show that. It's alright for two boys to be together, after all. Especially if Albus and Grindelwald can do it."

Draco bites his bottom lip. "What about our parents? What about my father?"

"My mother encouraged it, so I'm assuming that my father is alright with it as well. As for your own parents, I believe that Narcissa would be perfectly fine with it. Lucius, on the other hand, should not get a say in it whatsoever, in my opinion."

Draco ducks his head. "Just because he had a problem with physical abuse doesn't mean he's not my father anymore."

"You're right, _but_, the fact that he didn't _care_ that he was hurting you is what makes him not your father anymore."

Draco looks back up at Harry with sad eyes. "But what will I do without a father?"

Harry leans towards him. "Stay with me," he whispers, kissing his blond again. "Your mother can stay with us too," he says after he pulls away. "There's plenty of room, and you might as well. Your manor is far too big for three of you, let alone two."

"What about all of our house elves? All of our servants and our pets and our gardens and—"

"Your father will have to go somewhere, won't he?" Harry says, silencing the boy. "Nobody gets burnt at the stake for this level of torture. No, he'll be sent back home with a couple of guards to make sure that he doesn't do it again. If you and your mother stay here with my family, though, they won't need to waste so many Auror's on watching him!"

Draco smiles up at Harry as bright as the sun. "Would your parents really let us do that?"

"I'm sure they would. And, if not, you could still come and visit anytime you like, and you could stay over almost every night. It's almost the same things, except most of your possessions will still be at your own home instead of here."

Draco snuggles deeper into Harry. "I hope they let us stay."

Harry wraps his arms tight around the blond, their legs intertwined underneath Harry's sheets. "I don't know what I'll do if they won't."

"What about Ronald and Hermione?"

"They'll…get used to it…eventually."

"I don't want to break your friendships apart…"

"Draco, honestly. If they were true friends they'd put up with it. Besides, now that you no longer have the threat of your father hanging over you, you can be your Hufflepuff-self in public!"

Draco groans. "I don't know how I would, though! Everyone will think you've done something to me!"

Harry grins. "Well I have, haven't I? I've slept with you in more ways than one. I hardly think that can't be qualified as _something_."

Draco rolls his eyes. "Only you, Harry. Only you."

"That's right," Harry says, kissing Draco's forehead. "And it's going to stay that way forever. You'll never have to build up your reserves again."

D's face light sup. "No more hell to pay?"

"Absolutely _none_."

_**The End**_


End file.
